


Trials of Revolution

by bossxtweed



Category: 1776 (1972), History - Fandom
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-11 11:31:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11147529
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bossxtweed/pseuds/bossxtweed
Summary: A short script that I wrote for a creative writing class. Abigail Adams receives news that her husband is dead and struggles to cope while raising their four children.





	Trials of Revolution

 

INT. DRAWING ROOM - NOON

ABIGAIL ADAMS sits on a mid-eighteenth century sofa, a book in one hand. A toddler lays on her lap and another boy sits beside her. A knock at the door distracts her from reading. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(confused)

Who could that be? John is still away... 

The older boy, JOHN QUINCY, interrupts her.

JOHN QUINCY

(excited)

Is Papa home?

The younger child, Thomas, bounces excitedly. ABIGAIL ADAMS places a hand on his back in an attempt to soothe him.

ABIGAIL ADAMS

I do not know. Nabby! 

A young GIRL rushes into the room, responding to her mother’s call.

GIRL

Yes? 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

Watch your brothers, please; and find Charles, if you’re able. 

The girl - Nabby -  nods, moving onto the sofa as her mother vacates the seat. She hoists Thomas onto her lap as Abigail Adams walks away and pulls open the door to reveal a MAN.

MAN

(politely)

I am sorry to intrude, Mrs. Adams, but I have come

with terrible news regarding your husband. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(stunned)

Pardon? 

The MAN dips his head, ashamed.

MAN

(sorrowful)

Your husband was poisoned. 

Abigail Adams blinks in surprise but does not answer.

MAN (CONT’D)

Mrs. Adams?

(beat)

My condolences.

The Man turns and leaves, closing the door behind him. Abigail Adams stands there like a woman in a nightmare-- until THOMAS runs into the room, followed by Nabby, John Quincy, and another young boy.

THOMAS

(ebullient)

Mommy!

Thomas runs towards his mother. Abigail Adams staggers a step, one hand on her forehead, before collapsing to the floor.

NABBY

(frightened)

Mom! 

JOHN QUINCY

What happened? Is she going to be all-right?

ABIGAIL ADAMS turns towards her children, hardly registering their presence. She mutters something about their father- shakes her head- and sits up. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(muttered)

I’m… fine. Nabby, come here.

Her daughter obeys, rushing forward and taking her mother’s outstretched hands. ABIGAIL ADAMS leans forward and addresses her. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS (CONT’D)

(urgent)

Mommy doesn’t feel well.

(beat)

I’m going to lay down. Watch your brothers.

Nabby nods, placing a hand on Thomas and guiding him from the room. John Quincy does the same with CHARLES.

CHARLES

(softly)

Is mommy okay?

 Nabby and JOHN QUINCY exchange a glance.

 JOHN QUINCY

(shrugging)

  I don’t know. 

The flock of children walk to John Quincy’s room and the boys sit in a circle on the floor. Nabby pulls a book from a wooden case near the door, sits on her brother’s bed, and starts reading.

INT. BEDROOM - MIDNIGHT

ABIGAIL ADAMS paces the wooden floors of her bedroom, expression and posture reflecting a deep sense of worry.

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(frantic)

Why have I not heard from him?

Why has the mail not come? 

She paces for several more moments before an idea strikes: she fumbles in the dark to find candles and a matchstick, several pieces of parchment, a quill and inkwell. She then rushes to the drawing room and starts working at the desk.

ABIGAIL ADAMS (VO)

_My dearest Friend, I wish you would write_

_more often; I wish our letters were not_

_always lost or stolen by those who do not_

_appreciate them._

(beat)

_The children and I are all well;_

_we wait ardently for your return._

She sighs, dips her quill into the inkwell, moves to write but doesn’t. She sighs again and puts her things away before staring wistfully into the distance.

INT. LIVING ROOM - MORNING

Abigail Adams sits with one side of her head on the table, left arm forming a semi-circle around it, the other arm stretched outward. She stirs as her daughter walks into the room. 

NABBY

(softly)

Mom?

(beat)

Are you going to make breakfast?

ABIGAIL ADAMS lifts her head and smiles weakly. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(pleasantly)

Of course, dear! Would you make sure

your brothers are awake?

The girl nods and leaves the room. Abigail Adams stares at the front door until her children call her to the kitchen. She stands with a sigh, walks to the kitchen, and prepares breakfast.

EXT. MARKET - DAY

Abigail Adams and her daughter scour the marketplace, each with a basket on her arm. Everywhere they look, inflation makes itself known in signs displaying the prices of goods: milk, bread, barley, and more.

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(softly)

Would you go look for bread, less than two shillings?

Make sure to find me before you buy it, alright?

 

Nabby nods, accepting coins ABIGAIL ADAMS pulls from her shawl. Her mother watches as she walks into the dishevelled crowd of shoppers.

ABIGAIL ADAMS

I wonder if they’ll have pins today.

Abigail Adams walks in the opposite direction of her daughter, determination written on her countenance. A young WOMAN approaches and addresses her.

 WOMAN

(politely)

Mrs. Adams?

 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(stunned)

Yes?

WOMAN

I wish to express my sincerest condolences

regarding the death of your husband.

I hope- 

ABIGAIL ADAMS, offended, interrupts the other woman.

 ABIGAIL ADAMS

(shaken)

Where did you hear this? John is not dead.

(beat)

I know he is not. 

WOMAN

(flustered)

But, I heard-

ABIGAIL ADAMS once again interrupts the other woman.

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(irritated)

I’ve heard enough.

Abigail Adams walks away, finding her daughter awaiting approval to purchase a loaf of bread. Once their purchase is complete, mother and daughter walk home, arm-in-arm.

INT. FOYER - EVENING

 Weeks have passed since the man brought Abigail news of her husband’s death; weeks that show themselves in the sloppiness of her dress, bags under her eyes, and a slight gauntness about her face. She responds quickly to a knock on the door- opens it- and snatches the letter out of her brother’s hand.

BROTHER

Abigail-

ABIGAIL ADAMS hastily opens the letter, eager eyes skimming over the parchment’s surface. She grins. 

ABIGAIL ADAMS

(elated)

It’s from John! Oh, it’s from John!

Abigail Adams embraces her brother. Her children run in, eager to discover the source of excitement, and are very soon swept up by it themselves.


End file.
